"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more. “You needn’t be anxious about that! I shall contrive to live. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge. We've made a pretty penny by him—sixty guineas this blessed day. ’ She bit her lip, frowning.
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